hammocks; in point of fact, the breeze is usually so strong
that these occupations are carried on indoors.

The rooms were well filled with a moving, chattering crowd when the
Bensons arrived, but it could not be said that their entrance was
unnoticed, for Mr. Benson was conspicuous, as Irene had in vain hinted
to her father that he would be, in his evening suit, and Mrs. Benson's
beaming, extra-gracious manner sent a little shiver of amusement through
the polite civility of the room.

"I was afraid we should be too late," was Mrs. Benson's response to the
smiling greeting of the hostess, with a most friendly look towards the
rest of the company. "Mr. Benson is always behindhand in getting dressed
for a party, and he said he guessed the party could wait, and--"

Before the sentence was finished Mrs. Benson found herself passed on and
in charge of a certain general, who was charged by the hostess to get
her a cup of tea. Her talk went right on, however, and Irene, who was
still standing by the host, noticed that wherever her mother went there
was a lull in the general conversation, a slight pause as if to catch
what this motherly old person might be saying, and such phrases as,
"It doesn't agree with me, general; I can't eat it," "Yes, I got the
rheumatiz in New Orleans, and he did too," floated over the hum of talk.

In the introduction and movement that followed Irene became one of a
group of young ladies and gentlemen who, after the first exchange of
civilities, went on talking about matters of which she knew nothing,
leaving her wholly out of the conversation. The matters seemed to
be very important, and the conversation was animated: it was about
so-and-so who was expected, or was or was not engaged, or the last
evening at the Casino, or the new trap on the Avenue--the delightful
little chit-chat by means of which those who are in society exchange
good understandings, but which excludes one not in the circle. The young
gentleman next to Irene threw in an explanation now and then, but she
was becoming thoroughly uncomfortable. She could not be unconscious,
either, that she was the object of polite transient scrutiny by the
ladies, and of glances of interest from gentlemen who did not approach
her. She began to be annoyed by the staring (the sort of stare that a
woman recognizes as impudent admiration) of a young fellow who leaned
against the mantel--a youth in English clothes who had caught very
successfully the a